Starve a Fever, Feed a Sunburn
by SistaSouljah
Summary: Challenge Response. NS.


Disclaimer: If it's familiar to you, it doesn't belong to me.

Author's Note: In response to a Snickers Challenge.

* * *

For some strange reason, while in the middle of examining a photo of a carrot cake-stained bearskin rug, Catherine realized she hadn't seen one of her coworkers around the lab at all that night, and shift was nearly over. "Where's Sara?" she asked the two other people in the layout room with her.

"At home. She's sick," Nick answered as nonchalantly as possible as he irritably shoved the sleeves of his lab coat up his forearms for what seemed like the millionth time that night.

"Is she okay?" Warrick's face showed concern. It was no secret that Sara was never one to call in sick, no matter what kind of condition she was in. If she could walk, she could work.

"Yeah, I think it's just the flu. I was going to stop by after shift to see how she was doing," Nick said. "And bring her some chicken noodle soup. Made it myself."

Catherine glanced over at Nick. "That was your Tupperware in the fridge?"

"You didn't eat it, did you?" A slightly panicked expression flashed across Nick's face, not for fear that he wouldn't have soup for Sara, but for fear that he'd be exposed as a liar, as the soup was actually dumped from a can, and anyone who ate it would surely be able to tell.

Catherine chuckled. "Relax, Emeril, it's still there."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Emeril? I like to think of myself as Jamie Oliver."

"You're not cute enough," Catherine quipped.

Nick smirked.

"Who's Jamie Oliver?" Warrick asked, silently praying that his inquiry wouldn't result in a barrage of teasing because this person was someone that a hip, intelligent man such as himself should know.

Catherine rolled her eyes. "So did Grissom get back to us on this bug bite?" She asked the two men as she picked up a photo of their victim's foot.

"No," Nick replied. He peered at the photo. "Spider maybe?"

"Did you know that only one twentieth of a percent of spider species have venom powerful enough to cause noticeable adverse reactions in humans?" Warrick said to no one in particular.

"I do now," Catherine answered.

"Thanks for the info, Gris," Nick quipped.

"You're not the only one who watches the Discovery Channel," Warrick shot back with a smirk. He turned his attention back to the photo. "Any significance to this bugle tattoo on the ankle?"

"I don't know. And I don't care. And I hate these new lab coats." Nick let out a frustrated sigh as he unbuttoned the traffic cone orange coat and wriggled out of it.

"Why? You never have to worry about getting hit when you cross the street," Catherine joked.

"The sleeves are too long and there aren't any pockets in them," Nick griped. The hideous color was the least of his complaints.

"Whine, whine, whine," Warrick sighed. "Maybe you should go home. Or at least take a nap or something," he suggested in a more serious tone, knowing that whenever Nick was grumpy it was usually due to lack of sleep, since nothing else ever really seemed to bother him.

"Yeah, go home," Catherine concurred. "You've been on the clock since, what, five?"

"Four," Nick corrected her. Truthfully, he was awfully tired. Anyone would be, after nearly fourteen straight hours of work. Grissom had called him in early to help him with a case, while Warrick and Catherine had joined them at the start of their regular shift and so weren't nearly as worn out.

"Go home," Catherine gently insisted. "I'll take Sara the soup," she offered.

"It's okay, I'll take it. But I will go home after that," he said, knowing he probably wouldn't.

"Good. I'll tell Grissom," Catherine said. "And tell Sara I said I hope she feels better."

"Yeah, me too," Warrick chimed in.

"Thanks. I will." Nick hurried to the break room to grab his Tupperware of soup and then stopped off at the locker room before heading to Sara's apartment.

As Sara lounged on her couch watching TV, she heard a key turning in the lock of her front door. She kept her gaze on the screen as the door opened and softly closed, and the sounds of footsteps and a rustling grocery bag approached from behind her.

Nick plopped down next to her. "Are you feeling okay?"

She turned to look at him. "Do I look okay?" she asked rhetorically, sarcasm evident in her voice.

Nick cocked his head and eyed her intently. "Well, at least you're not as red now. Now you're just pink," he teased with a grin.

Sara narrowed her eyes at him. "I hate pink."

He only smiled and kissed her on the nose before getting up and heading for the kitchen.

"Ow." Sara wrinkled her nose at the pain caused by the contact on her skin, which subsequently caused more pain. "What's in the bag?" she winced as she turned off the TV and followed him.

"Soup, herbal tea-"

"I'm not really sick," Sara reminded him.

"I know, but I came straight from the lab, so I had to make it look like you were."

Sara rolled her eyes, but was thankful that Nick had the sense to do that. "You actually made soup?" She looked at him curiously when Nick pulled the Tupperware out of the grocery bag.

"Campbell's. I wouldn't go through that much trouble for you," he smirked. Of course, keeping their relationship under wraps for five months had not been without its challenges, but Sara's so-called illness had made for an easy excuse for his visit that morning. "Oh, and Cath and Warrick send their get well wishes. They're actually concerned about you."

Sara could tell from Nick's tone that he was trying to make her feel guilty. "It was your idea anyway," she said, refusing to fall for it.

"How was I supposed to know that after all these years, you decide that yesterday was going to be the day you actually started listening to me and taking my advice?" Nick defended.

Sara had no response. When she'd called Grissom to tell him she was sick, she'd said she had the flu, but in truth all she had was a sunburn, albeit a very bad one. A day off spent with Nick out at Lake Mead had given her painful red legs, arms, shoulders, neck and face.

The old Sara would have hated the thought of missing working, and would have just taken some aspirin and worked through the pain and the teasing about her pink tint. But the new Sara decided to stay home, and she found that it didn't bother her at all that she was missing work. Ever since she'd been with Nick, she'd been gradually learning to loosen up. He had suggested she stay home since she'd been working pretty hard lately anyway, and it didn't take too much convincing for her to agree.

Her eye caught a box that was still in the grocery bag. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked, hopeful that it was.

Nick pulled out what he knew was Sara's favorite, a box of Fudgesicles. "You mean these?"

Sara's face broke out into a wide smile as she grabbed the box from him. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice," he grinned. "But how about we save these for later?" He took the box from her and put it in the freezer.

"Why?" Sara practically whined.

"I think you know why," he hinted as his arms found Sara's waist and his lips found her neck.

"Ow! Nick! That hurts, cut it out!" she practically yelped as she pulled away. Had searing pain not been radiating from the spots where Nick's lips had been touching her neck, she might have realized how ridiculous she sounded telling Nick to stop what he was doing.

"Oh come on, it can't hurt _that_ bad," Nick coaxed. But even if it did, he was sure he'd be able to make her forget all about her pain. He attempted to drape his arms over her shoulders, but Sara ducked out of the way.

"Well it does," she regretfully admitted as she took a step back. As much as she wanted Nick to continue, she didn't think the pleasure would outweigh the pain.

But with further coaxing, much less than Nick had thought would be necessary, he did manage to get Sara to forget about her sunburn.

"I don't think I can move," Sara said as she lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Indeed, the pleasure had, by far, outweighed the pain, but the last waves of pleasure had gone and she was now being reminded of why she didn't want to get into this situation in the first place. Though she didn't regret that she did, especially not after Nick had so cleverly managed to bring the Fudgesicles into play to help soothe the pain of her sunburned skin.

"That good, huh?" Nick teased.

Sara would have thrown her arm out to whack Nick on the chest had she not been fearful of the pain that her skin slapping against his would have caused.

"I'm hungry," Nick announced.

Sara didn't find this at all surprising, but she couldn't help but laugh. She reached for the phone on the bedside table. "Pizza or Chinese?"

"Chinese," Nick replied.

Sara hit number three on her speed dial to place an order. Not fifteen minutes later, as they both were still lying in bed, the doorbell rang. "Wow, that was fast," Sara commented as she sat up, realizing that the throbbing pain of her skin had somewhat subsided.

"I'll get it. Unless you don't care about answering the door looking like a maraschino cherry," Nick quipped.

Sara raised an eyebrow at Nick, who was making no attempt to get out of bed. "I think I can handle it. I'm sure delivery guys have seen stranger." She searched for some clothes and put on the first things she found, Nick's t-shirt and boxers, and hurried for the door. Without looking through the peephole, she opened it.

"Sara."

"Uh, hi," Sara managed to mutter after a few seconds.

"I just stopped by to see how you were feeling." Only now did Grissom notice Sara's skin appeared to be a bit pink; the first thing he'd noticed when she'd opened the door was her clothing, men's underwear and a t-shirt that he could have sworn he saw someone at the lab wearing earlier. "Uh, I was concerned, since you rarely call in sick. I tried calling but you didn't pick up." He tried desperately to focus on the reason he'd stopped by and not on her present appearance, not wanting to intrude on her personal life, though glad and somewhat relieved that she did in fact seem to have one.

"Oh. Right. Thanks. I'm actually feeling-"

"What's the hold up? I didn't work up my appetite in there for nothing," a male voice sounded from inside Sara's apartment, a distinct Texan drawl that Grissom immediately recognized.

Sara inwardly groaned, as Grissom tried not to look too shocked as Nick appeared in the doorway wearing only a pair of jeans.

"Uh, hey, Gris." Nick looked at his boss with slight panic in his eyes, unsure of what else to say.

"Nick," Grissom nodded.

"I'm feeling much better," Sara said in an attempt to ease the awkwardness of the situation.

"So I see," Grissom replied as he raised an eyebrow in mild amusement, a faint flicker of a smile twitching the corners of his mouth up.

As Sara felt her cheeks getting warm, she was strangely thankful that her cheeks were already as pink as they could get and Grissom couldn't detect her embarrassment. "I'll be in tonight," she assured him.

"Good. I'll see you tonight then," Grissom replied. "Both of you." He looked over Sara's shoulder at Nick.

"Yeah," Nick said.

"Thanks for stopping by." Sara gave Grissom an appreciative smile.

"You're welcome. I'm glad you're feeling better." Grissom turned to leave.

"Thanks," Sara said again as she closed the door. She turned to Nick and let out a sigh.

A smile crept to Nick's lips as he glanced at what Sara was wearing. "At least now he'll never have to ask me the boxers or briefs question."

- The End -


End file.
